


Of Coffee and Kings

by Fallingtowardsoblivion



Category: Merlin (BBC), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anon Prompt, Arthur is emotionally constipated, Barista Merlin, Cute, Drabble, Ficlet, Fluff, Funny, Gwaine Knows, Humor, M/M, Merlin has pets, Merlin is the proud father of an ancient dog and stupid goldfish, Modern AU, Oblivious Merlin, One-Shot, Secret Admirer, Tumblr Prompt, coffee shop AU, super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallingtowardsoblivion/pseuds/Fallingtowardsoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt on tumblr: Coffee shop AU and Fluff</p><p>Or: Merlin has a secret admirer, and is a bit too oblivious for his own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Coffee and Kings

**Author's Note:**

> This is for anon on tumblr! Prompt me @ withinthesingularity if ya wanna see anything else! Enjoy!

 

It had started about three weeks ago. Well, technically three weeks, two days and fourteen hours and an undetermined number of minutes ago – but who was _counting_? (Well, technically _Merlin_ was, but that was just because he happened to have a bit of spare time to think, after all, the shop wasn’t _that_ busy -)

“Merlin! What, has the espresso machine broken? Why are you just standing there staring? We have a line out the door and I need five more espresso shots, on the fly!”

Merlin winced, turning to give a sad excuse of a chuckle to a rather incredulous Gaius, who was doing the thing. The eyebrow Thing. The Thing with the Eyebrow. The Judgment Brow of Damnation –

God, if anyone ever told Merlin he would get to a point in his life that he could be cowed by an _eyebrow_ …

“Merlin! Shots, please. Today!” Gaius said, drawing the barista from his reveries.

“Right, right, Gaius. I’m on it.” He said, blushing a bit at his absentmindedness. And well, also the fact that he was thinking about his boss’ eyebrow so much. Really, though, that thing was a mystery to the scientific realm…

“ _Merlin_!”

 

***

 

Anyway. It had started a bit back. What, per say, is _It_? Well _It_ is the _event_ that happened about a bit back, and It has been _haunting_ one Merlin Emrys, part-time barista at Druid Hills Coffeehouse and full-time father of two.

(Two children? How quaint. No, actually he is the proud father of an entirely _too_ large, _ancient_ puppy named Kilgharrah and an entirely _too_ stupid goldfish who has a tendency to _jump_ from the _tank_ named Aithusa. Oh, and a certain prat of a regular who is such a baby that Merlin _might_ _as_ _well_ be considered his _mum_ – but we’ll get to that in a moment.)

Ah yes. That aside, though, Merlin was in a bit of a situation.

You see, poor, single father Merlin Emrys was in fact in possession (though rather unwontedly) of a secret _admirer_.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” Gwaine had said, running his finger absentmindedly through Merlin’s most recent delivery of flowers in a manner that rather _maimed_ and _destroyed_ said flowers because contrary to (Gwaine’s) popular believe, flowers actually weren’t _supposed_ to have _fingers_ running _through_ them.

“Gwaine! You’re supposed to have sympathy here!” Merlin bemoaned, burying his head in his elbow.

“I’m just saying.” The regular shrugged, grabbing his café latte from where Gwen had slid it across the bar top. “After all, the flowers are quite lively.” Gwaine continued, wincing as one of the few surviving rose-heads fell off with a small, moist ‘plop’. He tried to covertly reconnect said rose-head, with only minimal success. (Thankfully, Merlin was too busy bemoaning his luck and looking at what must be a very interesting crook of an elbow to notice the Flower Massacre that his friend was commiting. Thank god for the little things in life.)

“Bmph yoh doph gph iffph!” Merlin bemoaned into the crook of his elbow.

“Eh? Didn’t hear you.” Gwaine said, quickly tossing the rose-head over his shoulder and wincing when it made a sound that was suspiciously close to what a rose-head landing in someone’s cuppa would sound like. (The exclamation that accompanied it wasn’t very heartening, either.)

“I said,” Merlin repeated, finally emerging from the crook of his elbow, “But you don’t get it!”

Gwaine sighed, taking another sip of his coffee and ignoring what sounded supsciously like someone complaining at the front register of a stray rose falling into his coffee. “Well, then what seems to be the problem?”

“My secret admirer is a total prat!” Merlin bemoaned, handing over the most recent, handwritten note.

_Dearest Merlin:_

_Roses are red,_

_Violets are blue,_

_You threw out my last letter,_

_So with all due respect,_

_Fuck you._

_(Though on a lighter note, I believe your most recent haircut is quite dashing. Also, how would you fancy dinner in about a week?)_

_Regards,_

_A_

Gwaine blinked, read the letter once more, squinted a bit as his brain chugged along in order to connect some dots, connected said dots, then promptly opened his mouth to tell Merlin that his secret admirer was a bit _obvious_.

But then Gwaine promptly clamped his mouth shut as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Oh, hullo Arthur.” Merlin said, squishing his face with the palm of his hands.

“Good evening, Merlin. As productive as ever, I see.” Arthur drawled sarcastically, then set his eyes on Gwaine. Gwaine frowned, wondering what he had done to deserve such a look, noted the coffee-moistened rose-head in Arthur’s hand, then promptly said: “Ah.”

“About that…” Gwaine continued, giving Arthur’s steely glare an unconvincing chuckle.

“Yes, Gwaine. About that.” Arthur drawled. “Care to explain why this was in my drink?”

“Er. Well, you _see_ …”

Merlin sighed, drowning out the pair as he continued to wonder on the identity of his rather rude admirer. Lucky for him, everything would soon be resolved.

 

***

 

Arthur decided he would reveal himself to Merlin at the end of the month. He grabbed the single rose, messing (in a very much _not_ nervous manner, thank you very much!) with his hair in the rearview mirror, then finally got out of the car.

Merlin was at the counter, and the afternoon crowd was minimal. Perfect.

Arthur went up, ordered his coffee from Gwen (who chuckled a bit when she saw the flower in his hand), then went over to Merlin.

He placed the rose on the bar-top in front of the barista.

Merlin, idiot that he was, didn’t notice.

Arthur cleared his throat.

Merlin was still preoccupied _humming_ , of all things.

“Merlin!” Arthur finally said, glaring at the absentminded barista.

“Wha? Oh, Arthur! Good afternoon!” He said, finally noticing the man across from him and shooting him a blinding grin.

Arthur couldn’t help but huff affectionately. “I suppose it _is_ a good afternoon. Here,” he said, picking up the rose. Merlin looked at it curiously. “A rose. For you.” Arthur choked out. (Morgana was right… he was a bit emotionally _constipated_. Not that he would ever admit it out _loud_.)

“Oh! Did you see the bloke who left that?! It’s from that bloody secret admirer…” Merlin said, snatching the flower and scowling at nothing in particular.

“Oh my _god_ , Merlin. It’s from _me_.” Arthur said, suddenly wondering why in the world he’d even _tried_.

“Eh? Why would you get me a flower?” Merlin said, looking at the thing in question in a rather suspicious manner. “Don’t you know I already _have_ a secret admirer? _Two_ would be quite too much, plus, this stupid git who is already admiring me (or whatever you want to say) doesn’t seem like the _sharing_ ty -”

“Merlin.” Arthur ground out.

“Yes?”

“I _am_ your secret admirer.”

Merlin frowned. Then he looked at the flower in his hand. Then he looked at the wilted, mangled pot of flowers at the end of the table. Then he looked back at Arthur. Then his brain caught up to the conversation (though it had taken quite the profound effort on said brain’s part).

“Ah.”

Arthur nodded, not getting it at all, and repeated, “Ah?”

“ _Ah_.”

“Ahhh… what does that even mean, you idiot?” Arthur burst, gritting his teeth.

“It means…” Merlin said slowly. “That the insults make much more sense.”

“Oh my god.” Arthur said to nobody in particular, rubbing his face in an exasperated manner. “Is that it?”

“Mmm…” Merlin said, thinking for a moment. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“No other reaction?” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm, nope.” Merlin popped the ‘p’, grinning.

Arthur contemplated hitting his own head repeatedly on the bar-top as a form of stress relief. Instead, he mustered all his strength and took a deep breath.

“Well, Merlin… Would you like to go out to dinner with me one day?”

“Mmm… I’ll have to think on it.” Merlin said, grinning.

“ _Merlin_.” Arthur deadpanned.

The barista grinned, flicking Arthur on the forehead. “I’m not sure I want to date such a dollophead, after all!”

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, making the barista chuckle.

And, well, the rest was history.

 

***


End file.
